


you'll never know (what kind of person i become when you're gone)

by casualmarches



Category: Waterparks (Band)
Genre: Gender Dysphoria, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Trans Male Character, but i thought it would make a good fic, so i added names and other things, this started out as me trying to cope with dysphoria, why do i always have to put awsten through pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-24 12:56:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16640543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casualmarches/pseuds/casualmarches
Summary: they whisper the name awsten tries to outrun, but it's branded to his forehead, written across his face, shown to everyone who comes to his exhibit in the zoo.he is running.





	you'll never know (what kind of person i become when you're gone)

**Author's Note:**

> so besides the part with geoff, because my situation with that is slightly different, this is basically how my gender dysphoria presents itself. have this little insight into my brain. it's not a fun place
> 
> i use a lot of metaphors to express myself. i like things to be up to interpretation. so enjoy

they say _she_ with venom in their voices and poison in their eyes, _her_ dripping with malice and a need to attack. they whisper the name he tries to outrun, but it's branded to his forehead, written across his face, shown to everyone who comes to his exhibit in the zoo. school roll sheets mock him, honey and sugar seeping into the two words that feel like a death sentence.

words are kind on the surface but suffocating underneath, a pillow stealing his breath, the knuckles holding the sides brushing his cheek with the tense wait for a punch soon to come. a tight tug so his struggling limbs slow their fight and give up. a horror movie with no plot twist, no ending, just death after death but only in his mind.

awsten is baggy jackets zipped up to the neck in ninety degree weather. he is beanies covering hair, hands in pockets, pulling shirts forward because it can never be far enough away from the genes so evident in him it escapes out his chest. he is collapsing, staggering for the door so he can run. run from the things that chase him, run from the watchful gazes dragging him under, the sickening smiles, the crows of femininity. run until his legs burn and lungs scream, desperately pulling in chemicals that are bitter and taste of acid. run until he becomes the gray slab of concrete his shoes hit and laces scrape on with the force of something so much bigger than him.

adrenaline rushes through his veins and he tears at it, rips it out to see it fall down in a fog of hate that curls around his ankles. a fiery anger cooled by pain, pain that murmurs in his ear, telling him all the things he will never be and never live up to. all the things that flash in the other's eyes when they see his breathing quicken and watch his throat be gripped by an iron fist. and they gloat, gloat without even knowing it, walking with the swagger that says they do not understand, will not understand, will never understand.

he wants to scream but he stares instead, stares at the mirror and finds every flaw, every curve that gives him away, every soft cut of his jawline, the groove of his lips, eyelashes that sprinkle with diamonds on their edges. stares at the one he loves the most, who is built from black ink and stars, who is what awsten is not. geoff, who is bright and _alive_ , broad shoulders and hairs on his chin that he scratches at idly, not knowing what it means, not knowing that awsten stares with an intensity that cuts deep into his brittle skin.

he wants to scream but he falls instead, falls headfirst into an ocean of insecurity. he lets gravity take hold of the body he's spent his whole life trying to get out of, lets the water pull him down into the darkness where he can't be found, and falls. falls in love but not with himself, never with himself, because he is not something worth loving or even standing. falls in love with the beauty of destruction, of glass breaking, fire burning, of living in a hollow case torn apart at the seams.

he wants to scream but he cries instead -

he wants to scream but he dies instead.


End file.
